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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933429">Chronicles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDeadTree/pseuds/theDeadTree'>theDeadTree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>GreedFall Oneshots &amp; Scene Collections [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GreedFall (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gen, Resentment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:21:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDeadTree/pseuds/theDeadTree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the fact that he’d known this man for months now, it suddenly occurred to him that they didn’t actually know each other at all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>GreedFall Oneshots &amp; Scene Collections [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1505774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I think we're at the point where we can safely say that I will write one of these for each companion. </p><p>Anyway, here's my attempt at Vasco.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have <em>got</em> to be kidding,” Vasco hissed. “What <em>for?</em><em>”</em></p><p>Admiral Cabral’s expression did not change. If anything, her eyebrows rose slightly as she watched his outburst, all while saying absolutely nothing at all.</p><p>“The crossing went just fine!” he found himself shouting, his hand flying out to gesture as the line of people still piling off the ship behind them. “Ask any one of the crew! Hell, ask the bloody <em>nobles</em> for all I care!”</p><p>“I’m sure your crossing was excellent,” she drawled back at him. “Alas, that isn’t under review here.”</p><p>Vasco winced slightly at the silent implication in her words. “I’ve never lost a man.”</p><p>“I <em>know</em> you haven’t,” she sighed, waving a hand in the general direction of his face.</p><p>“Then <em>what</em> the <em>bloody hell</em> is the <em>problem?!</em><em>”</em></p><p>She didn’t react to that, unmoving as he towered over her. He was a good bit taller than her, and yet she remained completely in control, obstinate and refusing to budge. Stubborn, like he was. Like a lot of them were. Probably one of the main qualities that helped her become admiral. Vasco never thought he’d come to hate it so much.</p><p>“Stay with De Sardet,” she ordered, completely ignoring his question. “That’s where I need you right now. Can you accept that?”</p><p>“The hell’s <em>De Sardet</em> got to do with it?!”</p><p>Cabral let out a harsh sigh and looked away. “Just do as he asks, you hear me? Any services he might require, you give them, understand?”</p><p>“I’m not a <em>servant,</em> Cabral! Not to some damn noble!”</p><p>She didn’t move. Because <em>of course</em> she didn’t.</p><p>“You’ll defy a direct order from your admiral, <em>captain?</em><em>”</em> she asked, arching an eyebrow as she placed extra emphasis on his rank, on the fact that she was his superior in every meaningful way.</p><p>“That’s not what I-”</p><p>“Figure your priorities out, Vasco,” she told him coldly, her hand reaching up and pushing slightly against his chest, forcing him to step back. “And perhaps, if you ask <em>politely,</em> Lord de Sardet will help you do just that.”</p><p>His lip curled at her slightly mocking tone. “I don’t need some entitled highborn <em>asshole</em> to tell me-”</p><p><em>“Enough,”</em> Cabral cut across him. “We’re <em>done</em> here.”</p><p>Vasco’s lips parted as he went to argue, only for his voice to completely fail him as Cabral stared him down, silently daring him to question her, to make it worse, to give her a reason to oust him from the Nauts entirely. She wouldn’t, he knew that. Not unless he did something particularly egregious. But in that moment… he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that she absolutely would. In that moment, the threat seemed all too real.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he muttered furiously, folding his arms across his chest and turning away, like some petulant adolescent.</p><p>Cabral didn’t bother to grace that with a reply at all, simply lifting a hand to wave him off as she leaned over her desk and quickly turned her focus to the countless reports strewn across it. Vasco remained stock still, reeling from the dismissal and completely at a loss. Eventually, he let out a long, overly loud sigh and threw up his hands in a display he hoped the admiral saw, before turning heel and walking away, shaking his head and muttering various cusses under his breath.</p><p>How could she do this to him? How <em>dare</em> she do this to him? He was being punished for absolutely no reason and try as he might, he couldn’t see the logic behind Cabral’s actions. Nothing about this made sense. All his life, he’d toed the line, kept his head down and done what was asked of him. He was good at what he did – a fine sailor and a bloody <em>brilliant</em> captain – there was no justification for this. All his life, he’d dedicated everything he had to the Nauts; and he had to, if he was ever going to stand a chance at rising through the ranks enough to gain the information he so desperately wanted.</p><p>Vasco stopped dead in his tracks as the realisation hit him.</p><p>Cabral hadn’t just taken his ship. She’d taken his only chance at finding out who he actually was. And she <em>knew</em> it.</p><p>His hands curled into tight, furious fists at that, glancing back at her over his shoulder just to give her one last, final glare, despite knowing that she was too absorbed in her work to notice, or even care if she <em>had.</em></p><p>Well, screw her. He’d find a way to get the information on his own, rules and tradition be damned. He suddenly had a distinct feeling that he wasn’t going to get it any other way.</p><p>He stomped back over to where his – not his anymore, <em>damn </em>Cabral – ship was still being unloaded, and the nobles, people he had foolishly assumed he wouldn’t have to see again after today, stood. Vasco watched on as the taller one strutted off without a care in the world, a woman quickly chasing after him, leaving just one remaining.</p><p>Vasco sighed and rolled his shoulders back, hoping to calm himself a little before bothering to approach, though never quite sure if he succeeded.</p><p>“I’ve been <em>skullied!</em><em>”</em> he snarled at the man the instant he was in earshot. He didn’t know why exactly. He was furious and needed someone to vent to, he supposed.</p><p>Adélard de Sardet took a step back at the sudden sound of his voice, whirling around to face him with eyebrows raised at the sheer aggression on Vasco’s part.</p><p>“…skullied?” he repeated, completely at a loss. “How so?”</p><p>Vasco groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My <em>admiral</em> laid me off.”</p><p>Why? <em>Why </em>was Cabral <em>doing</em> this to him? Take his ship and put him on babysitting duty for some conceited idiot? She didn’t like the Congregation nobles anymore than he did, so why was she so obsessed with this particular one, to the point of forcing Vasco to follow him around? The entire exercise was pointless and nonsensical. But there had to be a reason. There <em>had</em> to be. He just hadn’t worked it out yet.</p><p>“My cousin was nonetheless delighted with your services,” Adélard said carefully, drawing Vasco back into reality. “If there’s been any miscommunication-”</p><p>He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “None, I’m sure of it. I’m just supposed to give you <em>any services you might require.</em><em>”</em></p><p>The last part came out as a distinctly sarcastic drawl, but Vasco still couldn’t help but wince as the words left him. One moment he was the captain of a ship, the next he was acting as a glorified manservant, waiting on his new master’s every whim. Everything had been so <em>normal</em> just a few minutes ago – how had it all changed so quickly?</p><p>“So here I am,” he muttered as he quickly opted not to think about it, “at your service, for a while.”</p><p>“You don’t seem particularly pleased with this development.”</p><p><em>How observant,</em> Vasco thought dully. “Don’t take offence <em>milord;</em> it’s not pleasant for a captain to be parted from his ship. This was about the <em>last</em> thing I wanted.”</p><p>He put extra emphasis on the title, saying it as scathingly as possible, carefully signalling that he didn’t – <em>wouldn</em><em>’t</em> – respect him until he had <em>earned</em> it from him. Normally, he wouldn’t risk being so blunt. Although <em>normally,</em> he didn’t have to actually associate with nobles beyond simply being on the same ship as them.</p><p>“It’s <em>my</em> lord,” Adélard muttered under his breath, before shaking his head slightly and electing to change the subject. “Did your admiral tell you how long your suspension would last?”</p><p>Vasco’s eyes narrowed at the response. “She didn’t exactly give me specific dates, if that’s what you’re asking.”</p><p>He shuddered as the words left him. What if it was indefinite? What was he supposed to do then? Had he just been kicked out of the Nauts entirely?</p><p>“Did she tell you <em>anything</em> specific?” Adélard asked a little tersely, though his expression remained largely impassive.</p><p>Vasco’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking?”</p><p>“You clearly don’t want to be here, captain,” he said, his expression hardening slightly. “And I don’t need your help. The sooner you go back to your ship, the happier we’ll <em>both</em> be.”</p><p><em>That</em> was unexpectedly hostile, though Vasco was at a loss as to why. Despite the fact that he’d known this man for months now, it suddenly occurred to him that they didn’t actually know each other at all. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue. But normally, he didn’t have to continue associating with his passengers once they landed.</p><p>Was Cabral <em>deliberately</em> trying to ruin his life?</p><p>“I’ll be sure to let you know, when I figure it out,” he said finally.</p><p>All that earned him was a curt nod.</p><p>“Alright,” came the response. “In the meantime, just- <em>…try</em> to stay out of the way. If you can manage it.”</p><p>He pushed past him then, striding off down the port towards the main cluster of buildings that made up the bulk of New Sérène. For much too long, Vasco simply watched him go, not quite sure how to respond. His whole attitude was-</p><p>…a perfect reflection of his own, Vasco realised as he slowly began to move off after him. <em>Damn.</em></p><p>What a thoroughly passive-aggressive way to disapprove of someone else’s behaviour. And how oh so very in-character for a noble. Although really, why did he ever expect anything different? He’d surely sailed with enough nobles to know how they acted by now. None of this should be a surprise.</p><p>And here he was, stuck with one.</p><p>
  <em>Damn you, Cabral.</em>
</p><p>“I don’t have all day to wait for you, Vasco!”</p><p>Immediately, at the sound of his voice, Vasco’s head snapped up, just in time to see Adélard standing a little ways ahead watching him, arms folded across his chest and looking a little impatient. He gave a huge sigh, before forcing himself forwards, away from the port at a slightly faster pace than before. And all the while, Adélard watched on, always with the same distinctly unimpressed expression plastered across his face.</p><p>Vasco scowled.</p><p>
  <em>Elitist prick.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Léandre d’Arcy.</em>
</p><p>Vasco’s eyes traced over the name carefully, studying the elegant, flowing script with an intensity unlike anything he’d ever shown before. The rest of the world may as well have completely faded out of existence at that point – none of it mattered to him anymore, nothing other than the file in his hands. This was it. This was everything he’d ever wanted, right here. And yet, he wasn’t sure he felt any different. He didn’t feel lighter, or more at ease, or anything at all, really. He’d been building this up in his head for so long that it felt like it should’ve been a dramatic, life-altering moment.</p><p>Instead, people continued walking past without paying any mind, waves continued to hit the shore, and life went on without a care as he stood there, completely rooted to the spot. This was it. His real name. His identity. His origins. So why was it all so underwhelming?</p><p>It should’ve meant something, he thought. It should’ve meant <em>more.</em></p><p>Anxiously, he glanced up at Adélard.</p><p>“Nobles, I suppose?” he asked, his voice somewhat hoarse.</p><p>Adélard’s brow creased slightly. “Yes,” he said with a small nod, though his expression quickly turned pensive. “Though I must admit, I had no idea they’d given a son to the Nauts.”</p><p>Of course he wouldn’t know. It wasn’t the kind of thing any family would advertise. The overwhelming shame of having ever owed anything to the dirty sailors would’ve been more than enough to keep their mouths shut.</p><p>“To think, I spent my childhood polishing ship bridges, when I could’ve been wearing silk…” he mused, mostly to himself, casting his gaze back to the papers in his hands. Suddenly, he was lost in a sea of hypotheticals, wondering about his life, about the kind of person he would’ve been, about the experiences he could’ve had.</p><p>What would he have been like? Would he even be able to <em>recognise</em> himself? He liked to think he’d be more down-to-earth, more approachable, more concerned with normal people and their lives. He knew it would never have been the case, but he liked to imagine it, regardless. More likely, he’d be just like everyone else, the epitome of everything he hated about the rich and powerful, with all the same attitudes, all the same values, where money and power mattered more than anything else.</p><p>“I’m sorry for you, Vasco,” Adélard said quietly, roughly breaking Vasco out of his thoughts, though never quite meeting his eye. “I truly am. But growing up in nobility is not as simple as it sounds.”</p><p>Immediately, Vasco’s lip curled. What a bloody entitled thing to say. “What would <em>you</em> know about it?”</p><p>He arched an eyebrow at that. “More than you think.”</p><p><em>Of course</em> he would say that, Vasco thought viciously. Like he was the only person who’d ever experienced hardship. In that moment, Vasco found himself looking him up and down, wondering if he even truly knew what <em>hardship</em> was. If someone raised in such luxury all their life like he had been even had a <em>concept</em> of real pain and suffering.</p><p>And why would he? He’d grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth, like every other noble who’d ever lived. Vasco had dealt with Congregation nobles enough to know what they were like. Did it really <em>surprise</em> him that they’d all completely lost touch with reality? That the man standing in front of him would be the same?</p><p><em>Oh you don’t understand Vasco,</em> he imagined a twisted mockery of Adélard’s voice telling him. <em>One time, my obscenely wealthy parents didn’t buy me a fourteenth horse. You can’t imagine how difficult that was.</em></p><p>There was a bitter taste in his mouth as Vasco realised, once again, just how close he’d come to living that life himself.</p><p>What would he even <em>do</em> with fourteen horses?</p><p><em>“Really?”</em> he asked disbelievingly, eyebrows raised in order to emphasise his incredulous tone. “Somehow, I doubt it.”</p><p>Much to his annoyance, Adélard simply watched him, stoic and silent and utterly <em>refusing</em> to take the bait.</p><p>That was <em>no</em> fun. If he was going to be stuck here with him, the <em>least</em> he could ask was that Adélard would bother to share the shockingly delicate ego of every other noble Vasco had ever met. In his experience, even a jab as light as that one would’ve been enough. They were so intensely reactionary that simply <em>implying</em> anything less than perfection about them was enough to set them off. Just saying something vaguely on-topic that didn’t completely agree, or even just wearing an expression of anything less than sycophantic adoration was usually enough to trigger an overly defensive tirade from any one of them.</p><p>Instead, he was met with a blank look and absolutely nothing worth laughing at in the slightest.</p><p>Did Adélard <em>know</em> about this game? Had other Nauts played it on him before, and left him wise to their tricks? Was he just not responding simply to <em>annoy</em> him? It was starting to seem like it.</p><p>“Well,” Vasco grunted after an excruciatingly long pause, “whatever. I’ve learned my real name thanks to you, and… that’s what I wanted.”</p><p>Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure that was true.</p><p>
  <em>Léandre d’Arcy.</em>
</p><p>The name – his name, his <em>real name</em> – reverberated throughout his mind, echoing endlessly as he tried to wrap his head around it. There was a whole different person in that name; an entirely different life he wasn’t sure he had any real right to claim.</p><p>Léandre d’Arcy.</p><p>Who even <em>was</em> that?</p><p>Vasco sighed. He’d wanted a <em>name,</em> not an existential crisis.</p><p>“Léandre d’Arcy…” Adélard mused quietly, breaking Vasco roughly out of his thoughts. “I suppose that would make you Bastien’s brother.”</p><p>Vasco blinked.</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>“Bastien?” he repeated dimly, while his mind grappled with the concept of having a brother. It was so completely unlike anything he’d ever had to consider before.</p><p>“A courtier,” came the explanation, which conveniently didn’t explain anything at all. “Or he would be now, I suppose. It's been a long time since I last saw him.”</p><p><em>“Friends,</em> were you?” Vasco found himself asking, the bitterness all too clear in his tone.</p><p>Adélard’s expression immediately hardened and he looked away; turning his head just enough to hide the mark sprawled across the left side of his face from view as his spare hand flew up to rub his jaw once again.</p><p>“There were many children at court back then,” he muttered, his eyes glazed over slightly as he became caught up in some distant memory Vasco knew he wouldn’t talk about even if he pressed. “And none of us were exactly what you would call <em>friends.</em><em>”</em></p><p>Vasco sighed. “Just say you hated him next time.”</p><p>“I didn’t <em>hate</em> him,” Adélard insisted, though his voice was notably quieter, which Vasco now recognised as something of a tell when he was lying through his teeth.</p><p>“Of <em>course</em> not,” he drawled, not bothering to do anything to hide the sarcasm positively <em>dripping</em> from his tone now. “He threatened your position and you hated him for it. You’re not that difficult to figure out.”</p><p>For the first time since he’d met him months ago in Sérène, he seemed to strike an actual nerve with Adélard. Vasco watched as he pulled back, what seemed like every muscle in his body immediately tensing as his expression grew cold.</p><p>“You don’t know <em>anything</em> about me,” Adélard hissed, all pretenses of politeness suddenly gone, replaced only with sheer hostility.</p><p>Vasco’s lips curved into a slight smile as he realised that he’d actually managed to get to him, that he’d successfully put him off-balance, though he was at a complete loss as to why.</p><p>“I know you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth,” he shot back, carefully maintaining eye contact all the while, deciding to press the advantage while he still had it. “What <em>else</em> is there to know?”</p><p>“I don’t recall needing to prove myself to you, <em>captain,</em><em>”</em> Adélard retorted, his demeanour noticeably calm despite the confrontation, all while putting careful emphasis on Vasco’s rank as if to deliberately remind him of everything that had been stripped from him. “I won’t waste time arguing with you, Vasco. Unlike you, <em>I </em>actually have a job to do here.”</p><p>That stung. More than it should. Far more than Vasco was willing to admit. The jab was sharp and precise, aimed squarely at the weakest point of his ego. Vasco might’ve even been impressed with just <em>how</em> precise it was, if he wasn’t already busy frantically trying to think of a response, only for words to completely fail him. So instead, he simply glared at him and Adélard glared right back, neither saying anything in a silence that seemed to go on for hours.</p><p>This was what he got, for getting into an argument with someone who talked for a living. Vasco wasn’t quite sure what else he’d been expecting. He simply glared at the man in front of him, his mouth opening and closing slightly as words repeatedly failed him, unsure if he’d ever hated anyone more.</p><p>And Adélard watched him right back, eyebrows raised slightly, silently <em>daring</em> him to say something. To snap back. To say <em>anything</em> at all.</p><p>“Well,” he hissed after far too long a pause, clapping Vasco on the back in a show of false friendship, likely meant to confuse onlookers more than anything else, “see you back at the house.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He should have just left it alone.</p><p>Vasco knew that, and yet here he was, waist deep in a situation he couldn’t escape without help. A Naut looking into the whereabouts of a noble was suspicious enough, not to mention how cagey the aristocrats were when it came to involving anyone outside their social circle in any kind of gossip. He’d been shut down at just about every turn, told not to involve himself in other people’s business, that it didn’t involve him, and he had no right interfering in the lives of his betters. What was he supposed to <em>say</em> to that? Admit he was looking for his brother? No doubt that would end in countless remarks of <em>you aren</em><em>’t family anymore </em>and <em>know your place, sailor.</em></p><p>It was Adélard’s fault, of course. If he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given some off-hand remark about a brother Vasco had never known he had, then he wouldn’t <em>be</em> here, trying to quietly investigate without drawing anyone’s attention.</p><p>He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, craning his head up to face the ceiling.</p><p>Cabral would <em>kill</em> him for this.</p><p>But he needed this. He <em>needed</em> it. For closure, if nothing else. And… who knew? He might like having a brother. Having any kind of blood relative, really. The Nauts could talk about how they were family as much as they wanted, but being part of the same guild wasn’t the same thing as sharing blood with someone. He couldn’t ignore that reality now. The feeling was completely different.</p><p>Countless questions plagued his mind, just as they had been doing for days. Would they be alike? Would they have similar interests, despite their vastly different upbringings? Would they look similar? What would they talk about? Maybe afterward – when they had their reunion, after it was all said and done – they’d sit next to a fire and bond over a bottle of some rare and expensive alcohol and swap stories. They’d talk about ships and… economics, perhaps, or politics, or whatever someone of that position would be interested in. Maybe they’d find they had far more in common than either of them ever realised.</p><p>The idea of it had become so deeply ingrained in his mind now that he knew he couldn’t simply leave it be, as much as the more rational part of him <em>screamed</em> at him to walk away. And considering how difficult this whole endeavour was proving to be, perhaps the world in general was saying the same; to give up and beg for Cabral’s forgiveness while he still could.</p><p>He could. He <em>should.</em> But he wouldn’t. He’d come too far.</p><p>That just left the problem he was struggling with now, standing just outside Adélard’s office door, fidgeting uncomfortably as he frantically tried to figure out what he could say. As he desperately tried to swallow his pride and accept the fact that he wouldn’t get any further with this without help. Though the prospect of asking for it made Vasco feel almost nauseous. They’d barely spoken these past few days; nothing beyond a few terse words here and there. And he’d been fine with that, but now it just made everything more painful and awkward than it needed to be.</p><p>Adélard had no reason to help him, regardless. The whole thing was a complete waste of time.</p><p>But what other option did he have?</p><p>Finally, after what felt like an agonising eternity, he rolled his shoulders back and let out a long exhale in some vain attempt to calm himself, and knocked on the door.</p><p>There was a beat of silence before he heard Adélard’s muffled voice call out from the other side. “Yes?”</p><p>Vasco bit back a small groan as he pushed his way inside, taking a brief glance around the neatly ordered room. Everything in it was clean and tidy, nothing without purpose or place, all arranged as efficiently as possible. No decorations, no character, despite the fact that he spent the vast majority of his time here when they weren’t out traipsing around the island. Either Adélard was somehow reluctant to actually make the place his own, or he really did just severely lack any kind of actual personality.</p><p>At the sound of footsteps, Adélard glanced up from his desk, his brow immediately creasing.</p><p>“Captain,” he greeted mechanically, his voice completely devoid of any kind of emotion, naturally defaulting to Vasco’s rank rather than his name. More impersonal that way. “Can I help you?”</p><p>Vasco closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, already hating himself. Knowing he was only going to hate himself more for this as the day went on.</p><p>“Adélard,” he responded lowly, ignoring the slight flicker of irritation he got for refusing to use his title. “I need a favour.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Adélard de Sardet!” Bastien d’Arcy called, his eyes immediately widening as he seemed to spot the mark that Vasco had quickly realised was Adélard’s single most defining feature. “That <em>is</em> you, isn’t it? I hadn’t expected to run into <em>you</em> here!”</p><p>Vasco let out a quiet sigh and stepped back slightly, taking some small consolation in the fact that Adélard looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.</p><p>“Bastien,” he greeted with forced politeness, his posture suddenly completely rigid. “It’s been far too long.”</p><p><em>Or not nearly long enough,</em> if his general body language was anything to go by.</p><p>“To think, I mistook you for one of the savages for a moment!” Bastien cried, one hand brushing absently across his cheek, as if he was unsure they’d know what he was talking about right away. “But of course that couldn’t be, since you almost look <em>civilised!</em><em>”</em></p><p>The corners of Adélard’s lips twitched in that moment, the faintest pretense of a smile flashing across his face for a fraction of a second, but it was gone as soon as it came. Vasco’s brow creased slightly at that – he’d never seen him struggle this much before.</p><p>“Almost,” he echoed quietly, his eyes never once wavering from Bastien’s face. “But whatever are you <em>doing</em> here, Bastien?”</p><p>If Bastien noticed the abrupt subject change, he gave no indication.</p><p>“Oh,” he began airily, waving off Adélard without a care, <em>“that.</em> It’s of no real importance, I assure you. There is a game table here that is attended by the best of the aristocracy – I admit I may have overindulged, and, well, lost the money I owed to that merchant while playing there. And, since I got out with a few other debts, I had to leave the merchandise as repayment as well.”</p><p>“You- <em>what?</em><em>”</em> Vasco started, mouth hanging open in shock. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. That was stupidly reckless, so blatantly irresponsible on every single conceivable level, he couldn’t <em>believe-</em></p><p>He hadn’t realised he’d started to move towards Bastien until he felt Adélard’s hand press against his chest, forcing him to a stop, quickly accompanied by a warning look. There was a beat of dead silence as Vasco stared at him indignantly, only for Adélard to shake his head slightly in response; a clear signal to <em>please just leave it, Vasco.</em></p><p>“I do hope this won’t affect your business on the island adversely,” Adélard said, his hand not once moving from where he’d planted it on Vasco’s chest, presumably still afraid he’d speak out of turn otherwise.</p><p>It wasn’t a completely misplaced fear, though it did irritate Vasco more than just anything else in the world at that point.</p><p>Bastien let out a loud, somewhat overly dramatic sigh and rolled his shoulders back, either ignoring the entire exchange, or completely unaware of it. “Oh, of course not. My father will take care of all that.”</p><p>Okay, no. Bastien’s insufferable attitude definitely irritated him more.</p><p>“Ah, but I’ve yet to meet your companion!” he continued, taking absolutely no notice of the utterly <em>agonised</em> look on Adélard’s face, turning to face Vasco, only for his smile to immediately fade. “…your name, sir?”</p><p>“I’m-” Vasco began, only to cut himself off almost immediately, suddenly completely unsure of what he was even <em>doing</em> here anymore. None of this was turning out how he imagined. In that moment, he wanted to kick himself for being so damn <em>naive.</em> Everything he’d done, everything he’d been through to get to this point, and <em>this</em> was what he ended up with? Some self-obsessed pillock with no sense of consequences for his actions? If his options were life as a Naut or life as someone like the young man standing before him, he’d take life as a Naut. It wasn’t even a choice, really.</p><p>Damn it, Cabral had been right. He was so <em>stupid</em> for obsessing over this.</p><p>“…ah, Captain Vasco,” he finished stiffly, carefully ignoring the look of slight disdain on Bastien’s face. “Naut, and sea-given. It was a pleasure, sir.”</p><p>Bastien didn’t so much as blink at the introduction, his eyes already sliding back to Adélard in a show of clear indifference.</p><p>“What odd company you keep, Adélard,” he said, eyebrows raised. “Trying to teach a Naut proper etiquette? I admire your tenacity, but you must know it’s a lost cause.”</p><p>Vasco blinked multiple times, not quite sure if any of this was actually real. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d almost completely convinced himself that he’d overreacted, that he didn’t give nobles enough credit as people. He’d started to see his mental picture of what they were like as a caricature, some twisted version of an idea that didn’t actually exist. And yet, here was a man – his own <em>brother, </em>no less – acting exactly like every bad stereotype he could think of.</p><p>Part of him wanted to <em>scream, </em>demand to know if he was aware of what he was saying, if he had any idea what he <em>sounded</em> like. Wanted to tell him what an irresponsible idiot he was, how even the most crass and irritating of Nauts were still leagues better company than he ever will be.</p><p>Adélard, meanwhile, barely reacted, beyond a small, crooked smile, maintaining a perfect calm, or able to at least pretend. “And yet, they never seem to trouble me.”</p><p>Bastien shook his head and smiled slightly, picking up his things from where they’d been discarded on the ground. “You’ve no idea how fortunate you are, then. Honestly, the <em>way</em> I’ve been spoken to here! And the <em>nerve </em>of some people, sending <em>thugs</em> – what a complete lack of tact!”</p><p>“Do you think your father will still reimburse the lost merchandise?”</p><p>Bastien let out a shout of laughter at the question. “After this? Certainly not! If you ask me, that man <em>deserves</em> to go under. Absolutely insufferable.”</p><p>Vasco grimaced. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.</p><p>“In any case!” Bastien all but shouted without any real warning, already heading out of the small alley they’d crowded into, “I still have a lot of important business to take care of! I simply <em>must</em> be going.”</p><p>Adélard stepped back, giving him a clearer path to the exit. “Of course. We won’t keep you.”</p><p>And without so much as another word, Bastien rushed past the both of them, disappearing around the corner without so much as a single glance back in their direction. For much too long, Vasco simply stared absently in the direction he’d disappeared, his mind reeling and still not entirely sure if any of the experience was actually real.</p><p>“He was a git to you, wasn’t he?” Vasco asked dryly, still staring absently into the distance, all while completely at a loss as to how to feel.</p><p>He wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting, or even if he was expecting one at all. The realisation had dawned on him slowly, but somehow, all at once at the same time. It seemed so obvious now, that he actually thought about it. In fact, if he now expected any response at all, it was probably something to the effect of a snide <em>I told you so.</em></p><p>He’d better get used to hearing that. He had a feeling Cabral would say much the same.</p><p>Instead, Adélard sighed. “A<em> complete</em> git.”</p><p>Finally, after what felt like forever, Vasco turned, just enough to face him. “Nice to know he hasn’t changed, then.”</p><p>There was an odd beat of silence as they both simply stood there, neither entirely sure how to react. For what seemed like an absolute <em>eternity,</em> there was dead silence, as Adélard quickly opted to cover his face and glance away, letting out a strange sound that took Vasco a couple of moments to realise was actually a <em>snigger.</em></p><p>He was laughing.</p><p>For the first time since they’d <em>met,</em> he was actually <em>laughing.</em></p><p>Almost immediately, Vasco found himself laughing as well, quickly losing control as he doubled over, gripping the wall as his composure completely dissolved and it took everything he had not to simply collapse on the spot, both of them giggling like small boys as they threw out derogatory impersonations of Bastien that only made the two of them fall even deeper into their respective fits of hysterical laughter.</p><p><em>“Almost civilised,</em> Adélard!” Vasco mocked in a high, overly posh tone.</p><p>“A <em>game table,</em><em>”</em> Adélard responded, still cackling hysterically. “Save me.”</p><p><em>“Nauts are a lost cause.</em> Give me a <em>break.</em><em>”</em></p><p>“How <em>dare</em> someone want to be reimbursed after I lost their cargo?!”</p><p>It went on for what felt like hours, back and forth, their mocking impressions quickly growing more and more exaggerated as time dragged on. And for the first time since they’d landed on the island – perhaps even the first time in <em>years </em>– Vasco actually felt at ease, finally secure with who and what he was.</p><p>Adélard grinned at him and he grinned back, before they both immediately collapsed into laughter again.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was almost painful now, to be at the port. And yet, there Vasco was anyway, leaning against a warehouse wall, arms folded across his chest, staring aimlessly out at the sea. Ships came in and went out, fellow Nauts ran around in what seemed like a near-constant panic, because there was always something to do, always work to be done. Everywhere he’d ever been, the ports always seemed somewhat disconnected from the rest of the world, their own little space, where wars and politics didn’t matter. Only the ships did.</p><p>He thought he might’ve felt more at home, since what happened with Bastien. He’d thought he might’ve been comforted by seeing it all, taking it all in once again, knowing it was where he was happiest, where he belonged. Instead, it was downright agonising, standing there, trapped on the shore, watching what had once been his whole life slip through his fingers.</p><p>The ships would come and go and he would watch them all, unable to do anything but wish he was on one of them.</p><p>He didn’t think self-actualising was meant to be this hard.</p><p>All he could hope was that one day, somehow, he’d convince Cabral that he was worthy of trust once again. That she wouldn’t just wave him off and bluntly declare she was busy every time he tried. That he’d get to a point where she didn’t insist he spend his days wandering around the island.</p><p>He let out a loud sigh and reached up, massaging his temples in some vain attempt to stave off the headache he could feel coming on. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. He just wanted to get back on his ship, and sail as far away from here as possible. To hell with everything else. Why was that so much to ask?</p><p>He couldn’t do this anymore. With a small sigh, he pushed himself away from the wall, though not entirely sure of where he planned to go, exactly. Just, somewhere else. Somewhere away from here, wherever that turned out to be. Maybe the tavern. Maybe the palace. Maybe back to the house. Anywhere at all, really.</p><p>Suddenly, he was left with a sneaking suspicion that the empty feeling clawing at his soul would follow him no matter where he went. There would be nothing he could do to escape it.</p><p>He’d never been one to confront his feelings. Perhaps this was why.</p><p>He was halfway across the port when he stopped dead in his tracks, spotting a familiar figure sitting a little ways from him, staring absently at a bottle of something – alcohol probably, not that he could recognise what exactly from this distance – in his hand.</p><p>Slowly, a little apprehensively, Vasco approached, carefully easing himself down beside him when Adélard failed to respond. For what felt like a sheer eternity, the two of them sat there, side by side in utter silence, Vasco staring absently out at the horizon as Adélard continued to gaze into the bottle, as if he expected to find the answers to all his problems there. He wouldn’t have been the first to try.</p><p>Vasco didn’t know what to make of any of it. It was probably the first time he’d ever seen the man drink something more alcoholic than water.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>The question was quiet, timid, making it painfully clear just how unsure of himself Vasco really was in that moment. He didn’t know why he was asking, really. The answer seemed all too obvious – that he was here, alone, drowning himself in alcohol should’ve been evidence enough.</p><p>Adélard didn’t answer. Not at first. He exhaled quietly and tuned away just slightly, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink from it, only to wince almost immediately after.</p><p>“Never better.”</p><p>Vasco watched him for a moment, not sure what else to say. If there was anything at all he <em>could</em> say, even as part of him was begging for the awkward silences that had dominated the past few days to finally end. Once upon a time, he’d thought himself perfectly comfortable with it, completely at ease with the quiet. But as time dragged on, as hours crawled past without anyone ever saying a word because no one knew what to say anymore, as they all began to avoid each other in some desperate attempt to spare themselves the pain, he found that wasn’t entirely true.</p><p>Silences he could handle. But <em>this?</em> This was <em>agony.</em> It was, at the very least, enough to drive a sober man to drink.</p><p>And Vasco couldn’t take it anymore.</p><p>He let out a harsh sigh and reached out, gesturing for the bottle in Adélard’s hand. Without a word, it was handed to him, and Vasco immediately brought it to his lips, focusing on the uncomfortable burn as he poured it, without any real thought, down his throat. Almost immediately, he straightened, coughing and holding his spare hand to his mouth as his eyes watered. It was a harsh, brackish liquor, all burn and no real taste. The kind even the most determined of Nauts wouldn’t generally touch if given a choice. Precisely the opposite of what he’d expect someone who could afford better to drink.</p><p>He pulled back, exhaling sharply as he tried to rid himself of the bitter aftertaste, all but shoving the bottle back into Adélard’s hands.</p><p>“You <em>drink</em> this swill?” he asked, still coughing. “Somehow, I thought you’d have better taste.”</p><p>Adélard let out a shout of sharp, mirthless laughter at that. “Alas, the island is somewhat short on rare and expensive wines at present. I have to make do.”</p><p>The snide, dry sarcasm seemed to be out in force today. Vasco wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised. He’d learned by now that Adélard tended to default to that sort of thing when he felt fragile, or threatened. And lately, he had ample reason to feel both.</p><p>“Did you know?”</p><p>The question was sudden, asked without any preamble or warning, but Vasco didn’t ask what he was talking about. He didn’t need to.</p><p>“Me?” he asked, a little affronted by the accusation. “Why would I know?”</p><p>That earned him a scathing look and not much else. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Vasco.”</p><p>It took just about all of Vasco’s self-control not to groan at that. Of course he’d be caught out like this. Why did he keep expecting otherwise? Shockingly, someone who was brought up in the midst of Sérène’s royal court, where anyone and everyone could be plotting behind their back at all times, noticed things. Noticed the way people acted. Knew how to put two and two together, and draw conclusions through nothing more than careful observation.</p><p>A good liar knows how to spot it in other people. And Adélard de Sardet was <em>nothing</em> if not a supremely talented liar.</p><p>Vasco was at a loss as to how he kept managing to be shocked by this.</p><p>He sighed and glanced away, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “It’s not what you think.”</p><p>He couldn’t see Adélard’s face in the moment, but knew exactly the expression he was wearing. Brow creased, his lip curled slightly in sheer irritation. Not even bothering to hide it. Vasco found that he could just about <em>feel</em> the hard stare on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.</p><p>“Then <em>please,</em><em>”</em> came the reply – closer to a retort, given the aggression in his tone now, “enlighten me.”</p><p>“Look,” Vasco groaned, turning back to face him and almost immediately regretting it, “it wasn’t as though it was some grand conspiracy against you. I wasn’t even looking for answers about you, just for the truth about why I was suspended.”</p><p>“Cabral told you.”</p><p>Vasco nodded, eyes glancing back down as the shame welled up inside him. “Just that you were sea-born. Not… the rest of it.”</p><p>Everything about this was a complete mess.</p><p>Of course, it made sense. An unnerving amount of sense, really. Of <em>course</em> Cabral had ordered him to stay with Adélard; she was trying to get back what had been stolen from them all that time ago. Turn him against the Congregation and pull him into their fold. Spit in the face of Prince d’Orsay by stealing back what he’d taken. Vasco’s suspension was – like apparently everything else on this damned island – an attempt to manipulate someone else. Everything was a means to an end, including him.</p><p>He <em>hated</em> that.</p><p>There didn’t seem to be a single place in the entire damn world where he could be free of politics.</p><p>“How is it,” Adélard hissed as he brought the bottle to his lips once more, “that <em>everyone</em> on this <em>entire</em> god forsaken island knows more about me and my past than I do?”</p><p>That was a fair question. One that Vasco had often wondered himself, once upon a time. And one he knew he was never going to be able to answer.</p><p>“I know it’s not exactly the same,” he began a little awkwardly, “but I do get it. What you’re going through, I mean. I know what it feels like to realise later on in life that you’re not who you thought you were.”</p><p>It was a cold comfort, Vasco knew that. But there didn’t seem to be anything else he could say, other than that he understood, at least to some degree. They had that much in common, at least. All he could do was hope it would be enough.</p><p>Adélard didn’t meet his gaze.</p><p>“I suppose you would,” he muttered, still staring straight down at the ground immediately before him.</p><p>“And hey,” Vasco added, nudging him sightly, “if you happen to start obsessing about your birth family… I’ve been there too.”</p><p>The corners of Adélard’s lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile. “We really do have far too much in common, don’t we?”</p><p>“I’m taking that as a compliment, Your Excellency. There are worse people in the world to share similarities with.”</p><p>Adélard chuckled at that – but it was quiet and bitter, without any real humour behind it. “It’s odd to hear you say that, considering… ah, <em>everything.</em>”</p><p>Vasco smiled slightly and glanced away, lightly tugging the bottle from Adélard’s hands and taking one more swig, despite knowing how bad it was going to taste this time.</p><p>“Yeah, well,” he grunted, wincing from the taste once again, his eyes shifting to stare absently out at the horizon. “Let’s just say you grew on me. Like a fungus.”</p><p>And he had, the charismatic bastard.</p><p>Adélard ignored the jab like a professional, reaching across to take the bottle back from him. “I’ve been told I have that effect on people.”</p><p>They fell into silence then, both of apparently content to simply sit and watch the waves, occasionally passing a bottle of what was probably the worst alcohol Vasco had ever encountered between them. It was amusing really, how bad it was; Adélard clearly had no way of discerning quality beyond price. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, he’d have to teach him how to drink like a real sailor. He was sea-born after all, he might as well start acting like it.</p><p>Vasco smiled slightly at the thought. Already, he was acting like they were family. As much as any other Naut was his family, at any rate. Once upon a time, not very long ago now, he’d have absolutely loathed the idea. But after everything that had happened, after meeting Bastien…</p><p>Well. There it was, really. As insufferable as he was sometimes, Vasco knew he’d take Adélard over that any day.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The beach was met with an eerie silence as the guardian let out a quiet death rattle before toppling over, landing on the sand with a dull <em>thud, </em>the tentacles that surrounded its mouth writhing for a few moments after the impact before finally falling limp. For much too long, Vasco simply stood there, frozen in place for a brief moment before keeling over, resting his hands on his knees and gasping desperately for air. Beside him, Adélard buckled, all but collapsing onto the sand in a heap, his rapier sliding out of his slackened grip. Both of them remained there, held in place by exhaustion and shock as the minutes crawled by.</p><p>Vasco stared aimlessly at the sand, chest heaving, sucking down air with a desperation that surprised him. His heart pounded in his chest – seemingly more from the fear of seeing the creature when it first trudged out of the darkness than actual exertion. He would never get used to these things. To think that each and every one of them had once been human…</p><p>A shiver travelled up his spine before he could stop it. These people had completely given themselves over, allowed the island to twist them into something inhuman and monstrous, taking them and changing everything about them until they were unrecognisable. A total loss of identity, beyond their control. The natives might call it an honour, a worthy trade for the power they received, but he couldn’t think of a worse fate.</p><p>Why the continental nations were interested in such a thing, Vasco couldn’t say. Only that their damned curiosity had cost the Nauts a ship, and many of his brothers and sisters their lives.</p><p>He glanced uneasily at the rest of the beach; carefully scanning the broken, shattered remains of the <em>Oriflamme</em><em>’s</em> upturned hull. Everything about this place made him feel sick, from the corpses washed up on the shore to the wreckage itself, though perhaps worst of all was the pungent, overpowering smell of salt and decaying flesh. He should ask them to send people back here, when they were done. The bodies needed to be collected, their remains given proper rites, the proper respect. He didn’t recognise any of the pale, swollen corpses strewn across the beach, but could feel grief gnawing away at him all the same. He might’ve met some of them, however briefly. He might’ve had a drink with them once. Even if he hadn’t…the Nauts were his family. He couldn’t stand to see family like this, murdered and their ship destroyed by a monster for the sake of people who would never understand or even care about the real human cost.</p><p>And what if it <em>had</em> been people he’d known? What if the <em>Sea Horse</em> had ended up like this, while he was grounded on the island? What if he’d come here to see his own ship, his whole <em>life,</em> upturned like this? If the pallid, drowned faces he found himself staring at were those of Flavia, Lauro, Jonas, or anyone else who’d been under his command?</p><p>He’d come so close to losing it all. He had to make sure that wouldn’t happen again. Hopefully, after today, he’d have it all back, along with a newfound appreciation for the life he had. Cabral would finally trust him again and he could sail away from here, as far away from here as possible. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more.</p><p>Behind him, he heard Adélard grunt as he staggered back to his feet.</p><p>“It’s strangely melancholic.”</p><p>Vasco stopped, turning on his heels to face his companion, eyebrows raised incredulously. “What? What is?”</p><p>Adélard didn’t meet his gaze, too busy staring intently at the <em>Oriflamme.</em> “Seeing one of your ships on its side like this.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Vasco breathed, taking a few faltering steps forwards as he too, glanced up at the wreck. “Funny thing is, when you’re climbing the rigging, crashing through the waves, you forget how fragile they can be. On the sea, I always felt so bloody invincible.”</p><p>He couldn’t wait to get that feeling again.</p><p>“You miss it.”</p><p>It wasn’t a question.</p><p>Vasco rolled his shoulders back. “I miss a lot of things. Hopefully now, I won’t miss them for much longer.”</p><p>And finally, he wouldn’t have to deal with this island and the people on it anymore. He could finally put all the scheming and the politics behind him and pretend he lived in a world free of conflict and strife, where nothing mattered beyond his ship.</p><p>Adélard’s lips twitched with the slightest hint of a smirk as he glanced down, wiping away a trickle of blood that came from a small cut over his cheekbone. “It sounds liberating, honestly. Part of me wishes I could join you.”</p><p>His tone was quiet and wistful, like it was a distant dream that had long since slipped from his grasp. Vasco’s brow furrowed at that – at the defeatism in his words, the subtle implication that he didn’t have a choice, or at least didn’t feel as though he did. For someone who routinely made decisions that deeply affected the lives of those around him, he seemed completely incapable of doing the same with his own.</p><p>“So why don’t you?”</p><p>Adélard whirled around the instant the question left Vasco’s lips, eyes wide with surprise and utter confusion, staring at him like he was completely insane.</p><p>“I-” he began, his voice faltering and almost immediately dying in his throat. “…I’m <em>sorry?</em><em>”</em></p><p>Vasco didn’t move. “Join the Nauts.”</p><p>For much too long, the two of them stood there, as Adélard stared at him in pure shock, and Vasco just stood there, watching him back, remaining adamantly in place. It didn’t seem that shocking of an idea to him – though he had, admittedly, been mulling it over for what might’ve been a few weeks now. Now, it seemed to Vasco like the natural conclusion to make, though the way Adélard stared clearly indicated that it had never once crossed his mind in that time.</p><p><em>“Me?”</em> Adélard managed to choke out after what felt like forever, letting out a quiet, somewhat strangled chuckle that seemed born of stress and hysteria more than anything else. “You <em>can</em><em>’t</em> be serious.”</p><p>Vasco’s brow creased. “You’re sea-born. Why not?”</p><p>“I’m hardly a sailor, Vasco. I- I wouldn’t know where to start.”</p><p>“You’re <em>sea-born,</em><em>”</em> he reminded him firmly. “You’re sailor enough. And it isn’t like no one would teach you.”</p><p>A brief silence fell between them as Adélard failed to answer in any meaningful way. Too shocked by the question being posed at all, Vasco guessed. He had he really never once considered it, even after all this time? Was it really that absurd an idea to him? All his talk of wanting to escape, to get away from the life he was trapped in, all his clear discomfort with the hand fate had dealt him, and he’d never once even <em>considered</em> running away from it all? Of finding a new life for himself?</p><p>That kind of loyalty was rare. Admirable, really. It was just a shame it was wasted on people who would only abuse it.</p><p>“I’m honoured you’d ask, Vasco,” Adélard began, his voice jerky and faltering almost immediately as he struggled to think of what to say. “I really am. But that- …that isn’t me.”</p><p>Vasco blinked in surprise – having not expected that answer, and now entirely unsure what to do with it.</p><p><em>“Isn’t you?”</em> he repeated incredulously, the words leaving him before he could do anything to stop himself. “After everything that’s happened – everything you’ve found out about yourself, all the <em>lies</em> you were told – do you have <em>any</em> idea who you actually are?”</p><p>Adélard flinched back at that, almost as if Vasco had burned him with the question. He simply stared, lips parting slightly as if to say something, only to say nothing at all.</p><p>“Do you really <em>want</em> to spend the rest of your life mired in politics like this?” Vasco pressed quietly when Adélard failed to say anything.</p><p>He kept his head down. “Mired in politics or not, it’s my <em>life,</em> Vasco. I can’t just up and leave it.”</p><p>Vasco sighed and glanced away. He wasn’t going to change his mind. And at this point, it was unreasonable to continue to try.</p><p>“Okay,” he murmured, not meeting his gaze. “But you know, if you ever change your mind… let me know. I’ll keep a position open for you.”</p><p>The corners of Adélard’s lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile.</p><p>“Thanks, Vasco.”</p>
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